Mr. Blue Sky
Year of the Golden Gilled Boar, 1983, Kliloln, Naesu 24th
Sleeping in was a good idea. I, in fact, planned on it. My body betrayed me. As soon as the wine left my veins, I was awake.
I rolled around in bed for a while but when it seemed impossible to go back to sleep, I got up. Litoc had already left his. Hanni, Tukru, and Jibel were still dreaming. The gap between the thick curtains indicated that morning has come.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I surveyed the room and was impressed by how fast the servants were able to furnish it the previous night. The lines on the stone floor suggested that the beds weren’t there originally. Although there were no shelves, there were traces of it on the walls. In their place, two tables and six chairs were added. One table had bowls of fruit and two pitchers, the other was bare.
Just to the left of the door was a space closed off by two wooden dividers. I went to see what was behind it and found two basins on top of a table and two half-barrels. One with water and the other, empty.
I went back to find my backpack. I fished out a shirt and kicked it under the bed. After all that happened the last two days, I could have done with a dip in a river. The dirt on my skin was thick and I smelled.
Fraku used to make fun of me back at Osea about how I always found time to bathe as often as I could. I always answered it was to be presentable for the patrons. There is no polite way to tell anyone they smelled, especially if anyone is almost everyone.
Oh, what I’d give to have hot and cold showers on tap right now.
I began planning the day ahead as I started to wash my face. Litoc insisted we go in the morning. That made sense. Although prices tend to dip for most items as night approaches, markets have better goods in the morning. He added later why it had to be morning.
Criers would be sent out by noon, announcing the death of the monarchs. At the same time, death rites would be performed at the castle grounds. The made up story of how they died will be reinforced there. Most people in the castle would have already heard of the real events, the ‘retelling’ was only to make sure that the penalty for saying otherwise was present.
While every person who knew about the actual circumstance was already traced and would be briefed the same morning, every head of every division in the castle will also be briefed and held accountable should any of their underlings be found to be at fault later on. A threat. That’s all it was.
Litoc and I debated on the merits of this move later in our drinking session. In the end, we both concluded it was all that could be done. Anything more would rouse even more speculation. The castle lockdown would be passed off as due diligence. The guild had already been instructed what to spread and take note of those who say anything closely relating to the truth. How and when exactly he was able to relay that, Litoc did not elaborate.
By midafternoon the corpses would be paraded around the main streets of Osmouth ending at the King’s Plaza just before sunset where, after more religious rites are performed, Jakeli would proclaim his support for the King’s last wishes. The monarch’s corpses would be burned in a pyre after, while the clerics leads the public in a series of religious hymns.
Silaronian customs, Litoc explained, dictate that a neighbor help another who lost family. I’ve seen this, to a degree, at Itrip when Raami’s mother came to Besien’s house despite experiencing their own tragedy.
In the case of a noble’s or a monarch’s death, while the public grieved in the open, it was customary for people to share food and drinks. The castle’s kitchen would be working overtime and well into the night for citizens who are near enough to come. All around Osmouth, all the inns’ kitchens will be doing the same, paid for by the crown by way of tax exemptions for an entire month.
A beautiful tradition, I thought at first. As my mind ran through all the possible scenarios someone could exploit this tradition for their own gain, from the average citizen all the way up to nobles, Hanni woke up.
Hearing me washing up from behind the divider, she approached to investigate.
“Subilan san.” I greeted.
“Subilan.” She replied and went back.
Barring any complication, by the same time the following morning our party would be heading out for Osea. Twelve to thirteen days by land via Sesto, nine to ten days via Gourm with the last leg completed by boat, those were the choices. I would have taken the latter, especially that there was a possibility our wagon would be full, but I took Litoc’s suggestion to go by land all the way.
Going via Gourm involved at least two nights at sea. Even with all expenses shouldered by the crown, and even if we took the largest longboat with the best boatmaster Gourm’s port had to offer, there was a child and a woman with us. If any of us had to do our business, it would have to be done at sea during the day as camping at shore would only be later, towards evening. Pity there’s not a fleet on that side o’ Silaron, we could ‘ave taken a ship back!
As I washed the shirt I used as a scrub, I entertained the possibility of things not going the way they were supposed to. News of Khevernak attacking, Juwen announcing that the royal coffers are actually empty, an earthquake making the path to Osea unpassable. I even entertained the possibility that Jakeli would turn on us. Instead of proclaiming his support for the late King’s wishes, he announces to the people that we killed the monarch’s while at the same time, at the castle, having us arrested and thrown into the dungeon.
That’ll be something.
None worried me more than what Hanni would decide on. Will she come with us? Should I ask her? I got lost thinking of excuses to convince her to come should Hanni be undecided.
“Jorj?” I heard her call, “Where’s the bag? I need a shirt.”